Jun. 2nd, 2010 10:50 am
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First of June, but it could be November; all wrapped up and wishing I’d remembered my umbrella. Three women at the bus stop, each in shoes for summer, small cardigans for a warm breeze. But today is autumn revisited and I’m grateful for my jacket and my high-topped Converse shoes.
Heater stifling packed bodies on a bus, everyone cramming into seats occupied by handbags and copies of the Metro. Windows closed, the air is thick and heavy with the sweat of early morning workers. Too hot with old air recycled through some kind of conditioning.
Next stop a couple get off, leaving two seats in front of me free. Behind me a woman makes a fuss of getting out of her place, large handbag and paper clutched in her hands. Maybe she wants to get off. But she’s just desperate to get to those empty seats.
Why? A silent insult, going to so much effort to get away from the person next to you, just for some space. Not a fat monster sweating anchovies, but a tidy man in a business suit of matching calibre. All that hassle just to get away from a stranger. I can’t understand it, not at the next stop where the scenario is repeated by a man with satchel and iPod.
Passing through a different part of the city, and their space is crushed by new passengers: men and women with toothless grins bringing a stench of stale alcohol and loud conversations no one needs to hear.
You’ve opened yourself up to these strangers, and you deserve their stinking banter for your pompous behaviour. You are not so wonderful that you have to sit alone.


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June 2010

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